


Needs and Necessity

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [18]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Felisian, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Cat/Human Hybrids, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Established Relationship, Felisian!Jack, Felisians, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, mild PTSD, past abusive relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-18 13:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19335565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Davey never ignores Jack's texts, which is the first thing that tips Jack off there is something wrong. When Jack opens the apartment door to see Davey moving around the living room, the relief that rushes through him is staggering, until he actually gets a good look. Disheveled, face flushed, eyes wide and panicked in his pale face, Davey is pacing a meticulous loop of the room. Jack's chest clenches; he's seen more than one panic attack in his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TW: This story contains a graphic description of a person suffering from an anxiety attack. The second chapter also contains discussion of an emotionally abusive relationship.

Davey never ignores Jack's texts, which is the first thing that tips Jack off there is something wrong. As long as he's not in a class, Davey always texts back within a few minutes, and even then, he'll sometimes sneak a quick response under the desk. Even when they were fighting, Davey still answered his text almost immediately.

So when Jack texts Davey during his Saturday morning shift at the coffee shop and still hasn't gotten a response by the time he gets off work almost an hour later, he gets a distinct feeling that there's something _off_. Maybe Davey's just absorbed in studying; maybe he's all wrapped up in writing a paper for midterms and didn't see the text. Jack tries to convince himself of that as he cuts across the courtyard to Davey's dorm building, just to check.

A couple of girls must recognize him because they don't bat an eye when Jack yells for them to hold the door, letting him into the locked building. Jack half-sprints up the stairs to the third floor, ears peaked forward for any familiar sound in the dorm room, and knocks at Davey's door. "Hey, Dave, it's me," he calls through the wood. He can't hear Davey moving around inside or the hippie nature music he likes to listen to when he's studying hard. After a long pause with no response, Jack tries again. "Davey, ya here? C'mon, getcha nose outta the textbook a sec, wouldja?"

"Don't think he's back yet." Jack looks over his shoulder to see the guy from the room across the hall, his door propped open to reveal him sitting on his bed with his laptop open on one thigh. "I've been here all day, saw him leave this morning but I haven't seen him come back. Think he said he was headin' to the library to work on a paper. Midterms, ya know."

Jack exhales, dragging a hand back through his hair and flicking his tail anxiously. "Yeah. Thanks," Jack says to the guy who he knows he's met but whose name he can't remember for the life of him. "If ya see him, can ya tell him to text me?"

"Sure thing, man," the guy says. "Good luck."

The next place Jack checks is the library, but he can't find him anywhere in the cavernous building. He spots the librarian that he recognizes as Davey's work-study advisor, who tells him she saw Davey earlier but he left in a hurry a while ago. An ominous chill racing down his spine, Jack barely pauses to say a quick thanks before he takes off out of the library.

Davey is a creature of habit, so Jack makes a quick check of the few other places on campus he knows Davey likes to hide out to study - an alcove on the fourth floor of the humanities building and a conservatory-type room around the back of the history department - with no luck. The only other place on campus where he can usually find Davey is under the beech tree in the south courtyard, but it's still too cold for that, the grass wet from last night's rain.

Sending a fourth nervous text, Jack starts for home feeling a bit desperate. He wants to convince himself it's nothing big, but he can't shake that strange shiver that's making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his ears tense and attuned to every possible sound.

Maybe Spot or Race have seen Davey, maybe he came by while Jack was at work. Maybe - and Jack knows this is probably just wishful thinking - he came over and fell asleep, and Jack will show up to find Davey taking a much-needed nap on Jack's bed.

When Jack opens the apartment door to see Davey moving around the living room, the relief that rushes through him is staggering. "Jesus, there ya are," he breathes, closing the door. "Where ya been? Was tryna get ahold of ya." It's only when he takes another step into the room that he realizes Davey didn't respond, hasn't even acknowledged him, and Jack pauses to take a better look.

It's a word Jack's never used to describe his boyfriend, but the only way to say it is that Davey is _disheveled_. His shirt is untucked, one cuff unbuttoned and hanging loose from his elbow, and his hair is standing on end the way it does when he's been running his hands through it over and over. He's pacing a sharp line across the living room; exactly ten steps and an abrupt about-face, then repeat. When Jack gets a glimpse of his face, he can see that Davey's eyes are wide and red-rimmed, his lips red from biting them.

"Davey, babe, what's wrong?" the felisian asks uncertainly.

"I'm fine," Davey grounds out between his teeth, not looking up from his feet. His arms are wrapped tightly around his chest like he's clinging on for dear life, and his fingers are gripping his shirt so hard his knuckles are bone-white.

A suspicion takes root, and Jack swallows, a knot forming in his gut. He's seen more than one panic attack in his life. "Anythin' I can do to help?"

"I'm fine," Davey mutters again. It's barely more than a whisper, but Jack can hear it all too clearly, can pick up the waver and the faint hoarseness. Something about the sound makes Jack think he's been at this a while now, maybe even the whole hour that Jack hasn't heard from him. Has he just been here, drowning in his anxiety alone that entire time?

Davey keeps murmuring, unaware of Jack's epiphany. "M'fine. Fine, fine, fine. Can do this. Can fix it. Just - gotta breathe." Davey huffs, letting go of his shirt long enough to card a hand through his hair roughly and then promptly returning to its death-grip. The movement bared Davey's inner forearm long enough for Jack to spot a patch of skin bright red from ruptured vessels, and a quick glance confirms there are similar gouges in the edges of his cast like Davey's been scratching at the plaster. "Don't need - can do it. I'm not - I don't - stop fucking looking at me like that!"

The sudden shout hits Jack like a slap in the face, and he can only stare back at his boyfriend in surprise, the curse shocking him as much as the volume; Davey almost only ever swears when he's _really_ mad. Davey's come to a stop in the middle of the room, his face flushed as he glares at Jack with wild eyes. "Like what?" asks Jack, holding his hands out to his sides and tucking his ears down to look less threatening.

"I'm so fucking sick of everyone's _pity_!" Davey snarls furiously, voice cracking sharply and moisture gathering on his lashes. "I _can_ do it. Can fix it. Just gotta - All my life, just fucking pity, that's all I've got. Poor David, the kid with no dad, the kid with no friends, the sad little gay. Well I'm fucking sick of it, okay?"

"Dave, no one said-"

Davey doesn't seem to hear him, tripping over his words for a moment before he launches back into it. "And I can't - It's bad from them but from _you_? I can't. And I just - I can take care of myself. _I'll_ fix it. I'm gonna do it. Can fix it. I don't need anyone to fix it. I don't - I can't - I just-" Davey breaks off with a frantic, desperate noise, tugging at his hair again. "I don't need anyone, and I don't need someone to save me, and I can do it. Don't need my boyfriend to save me, don't need it. _Won't_ do it. Not gonna be that weak bitch again. Not that guy. Never again. I can do it, so just - _stop_! Just stop!"

Jack knows it shouldn't be the detail that sticks out to him, knows that there's a much bigger picture going on here that he should be focusing on, but there's one single word catching in his brain like a burr. "Again?"

It seems like the question cuts straight through the panic to actually reach Davey this time. He freezes like he's turned to stone, all of the fidgeting stopping immediately, and he stares at Jack with wide, startled eyes. "I - no - what?"

"You said you won't be that guy _again_ ," Jack clarifies quietly, licking his lips.

The anger is gone as quickly as it came, slipping back down into panic. "What?" Davey repeats tremulously, his face pale and breathing fast. He takes a stumbling step backward, folding in on himself even more, and the tears balanced at the corners of his eyes finally escape. "No, I - I didn't - I can't - I can't, I can't, _I can't_ -" Trembling, Davey wraps his head in his arms and heaves a choked sob.

Jack feels terrified and helpless, no idea how to handle this situation. He's no shrink, but he understands enough to know that panic attacks don't work the same for everyone. He knows what to do when Race has a panic attack because they've talked about it and set down rules for dealing with it, but there's no saying those things will help Davey. For all Jack knows, they could just make it worse.

Then a long-forgotten snatch of conversation comes back to him, something he remembers being curious about at the time but never dared ask, and it was eventually forgotten about entirely. _"I used to get panic attacks when I was younger, and that's a thing that always helped me. Breaking things down, focusing on them one at a time."_

Crossing the room as carefully as possible, Jack stops just out of arm's reach so Davey will still have his space. "Davey," he says softly, but it still manages to make Davey flinch. "Ya gotta try and focus, 'kay? I know it feels like lots goin' on right now, but let's just take one thing at a time. Can ya do that? Break it up into li'l pieces and focus like that. One thing at a time, and breathe, 'kay?"

Davey is rocking slightly on the balls of his feet, his face still hidden in his arms, but Jack can hear him whispering to himself. "Just one. One at a time. Heartbeat, fast and loud. Breathing. Fast, hurts. _Shhh!_ Uh, carpet; steps on carpet. Tail against his jeans. Dog barking upstairs, little dog." Jack forces himself to just stand and wait, listening to Davey work his way down a list of everything he can hear. It takes a minute before Davey's breathing slows a bit, and his fingers loosen their grip on his hair.

"Davey?" Jack ventures tentatively.

With a strangled noise, Davey glances up through the gap between his arms. There are blotchy red patches on his cheeks and tear streaks stand out glossy on his skin. Lip quivering, he whimpers, "I can't - too much."  

"I know, babe," says Jack, and his heart seizes up painfully at seeing Davey like this. "I - can I touch ya, that okay?"

Davey takes a shuddery breath and then staggers forward two steps before all but collapsing into Jack's chest. The felisian pulls Davey as close as he can, wrapping one arm across Davey's back while the other cradles the back of his head. He can feel Davey quaking against him, fingers knotted into the front of Jack's shirt as he buries his face in Jack's shoulder.

"Shh, youse okay, babe," Jack says into Davey's hair. "I gotcha, Dave. Youse okay. Just breathe, 'kay? I gotcha."

After several long minutes, Davey's sobs taper off and he stops quivering so much. Jack realizes he's taking more and more of Davey's weight as the seconds pass, the taller man slumping into him as the emotions ebb and leave him exhausted. Letting out a breath, Jack presses a tender kiss to Davey's temple. This part of a panic attack, at least, Jack knows how to handle.

"C'mon, babe, ya need sleep," Jack says, and before Davey can protest, the felisian scoops him off the ground. Davey grumbles, his hands tightening on Jack's shirt, but he's clearly too drained to argue. Jack sets Davey down on his bed and carefully takes off his shoes before pulling the blanket up over him.

Turning to take off his own shoes, Jack feels Davey grasp at his arm with a tragic whine. "Shh, s'okay Dave," Jack says reassuringly. "I ain't goin' nowhere." Toeing out of his shoes, Jack slides beneath the covers and pulls Davey against his chest. Davey shivers and burrows into Jack's sternum, his long frame somehow suddenly so small as he tucks himself as close to Jack as he can get.

Jack nuzzles his cheek against Davey's tangled hair and drapes his tail around Davey's back. "Youse okay, Davey, I gotcha," he mumbles against his scalp. "I'mma keep ya safe, 'kay?" Another tremor racks Davey's frame and Jack winces, wishing there was something more he could do to help. Give Davey something else to help him feel safe, to help him push away whatever darkness is swirling in his head like a nightmare he can't wake from.

Eyes widening, Jack takes a steadying breath. Davey has never said it aloud - probably out of respect for Jack's feelings - but Jack has gotten good at reading Davey's reactions. Smoothing a hand comfortingly along Davey's spine, Jack pushes his breaths through his chest until the air vibrates his bones. Even after years of comforting his little sister this way, it still feels weird to let himself do this, let alone to do it on purpose, but it's immediately worth it when he feels the muscles of Davey's back uncoil beneath his palm.

So Jack wraps himself around his boyfriend like a shield and purrs silently until Davey's fast asleep and finally, peacefully still. 

* * *

Davey wakes up with a splitting headache, feeling like his brain is too large for his skull and trying to crack him open from the inside. Groaning, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face further into the pillow. Which is when his pillow shifts, a soft, comforting vibration kicking up beneath his cheek for a moment. "Hey, you 'wake, babe?"

Jack is whispering, but his voice still feels too loud to Davey's throbbing head. "Don't wanna be," Davey grumbles into his boyfriend's chest.

"Headache?" the felisian asks sympathetically. "Racer us'lly gets 'em after he has one'a those."

"One of-" Davey starts in confusion, tracking back through the fog in his head to remember what's going on and why he feels so horrible. There are gaps, long stretches of white nothingness that are answer enough on their own, although it's been a while since it's happened. "Oh. _Fuck_ ," Davey moans, hiding further in the shelter of Jack's body.

Jack nudges his nose against the top of his head, his tail sweeping over Davey's ribs in slow drags. "Can I getcha somethin'?" he asks. He's clearly trying to be calm and supportive, but his resurging accent betrays that he's worried. "Water? Race drinks like a gallon ev'ry time. Or I can getcha-"

"No, just - don't move?" Davey pleads, gripping onto Jack's shirt. Now that the panic has faded, he's left with nothing but shame and embarrassment. He hates being seen like this, has always hated when he gets so wrapped up in the anxiety that he loses everything else. He especially hates that it happened in front of Jack, letting him see just how broken and neurotic Davey can get.

That said, he doesn't feel safe enough to leave the security of his boyfriend's arms, the only place he can think of right now that makes him feel a little less vulnerable.

The felisian, thankfully, doesn't seem phased by the request, just curling himself around Davey again. "Sure thing, Dave," he murmurs, kissing Davey's temple. "Just lemme know whatcha need."

Exhaling, Davey breathes in the familiar scent of Jack, amber spice beneath the freshly-ground coffee that means he just came from work. "Thank you," Davey whispers into Jack's sternum, knowing that no matter how quietly he talks, Jack will be able to hear it anyway. "And I - sorry."

"Whatcha sorry for?" Jack asks, and his frown is actually audible.

Davey snorts. "For being a total mess," he says dryly. "For freaking out like a spaz."

"Hey, that ain't nothing to be sorry 'bout," Jack says, a firm edge slipping into his tone. "You don't gotta apologize. I'm just glad youse feelin' better."

Better isn't precisely the word that Davey would use to describe it, although he supposes the fact he even _can_ think about that objectively tells him he is doing better. The whole morning - is it still morning, he doesn't even know how much time has passed - is spiraling through his head in a chaos of emotions that are difficult to parse out. It's one of those things that unfortunately happens when he doesn't find a way to work himself out of the anxiety, his brain sticking in a loop of negatives. It came and went in waves, slowly pushing the panic down only to have his mind drag out some other long-dormant stressor that rocketed him back into that blinding whiteness where his awareness checks out.

He's always been a bit of a neurotic mess, and he's got no shortage of painful feelings and memories to add fuel to the fire.

Among everything else, a fragmented glimmer of memory slips through, Jack's voice worming through the overwhelming input coming at him from every direction, coaxing him to unpack the oppressive _everything_ into manageable pieces. "How'd you know to do that?" Davey asks. "That thing about listing off stuff?"

"Ya told me," the felisian answers. "That first time you helped me with one'a my migraines. Said that's what ya did when you were li'l to stop 'em. Figured it might still work." Davey blinks, surprised. He barely even remembers that conversation, something Davey's pretty sure happened in the first few weeks they started seeing each other, and he can't believe Jack remembered it. "You wanna talk 'bout it?" Jack asks apprehensively. "You was pretty worked up..."

"It's stupid," Davey says, shaking his head where he's tucked against Jack's ribs.

"Ain't stupid if it matters to ya," Jack counters without hesitation, and the comment nudges at the warm place in Davey's chest reserved just for this man.

Davey sighs. "I just - I'd just finished that ten-page midterm paper for my history class, and when I went to submit it to the online thing, I reread the instructions and found out I'd done it totally wrong," he says, cringing at how pathetic it sounds to say aloud. "And it's due in three days, and I have to pass to finish my year one GenEds to get admitted into the Journalism program, and if I don't get in this year then I'll be a whole year behind, and I won't qualify for that study-abroad thing I wanna do this summer, and I just - lost it."

He shudders, the anxiety welling up in him again just thinking about it, and he pointedly doesn't mention the final straw that cracked his composure. It had been an innocuous comment, one of the librarians checking on him because he looked so frantic; a gentle hand on his back and pitying, "You okay, sweetheart?" And suddenly Davey was thrown back through time, another voice hissing in his ear, _it's okay, sweetheart, you know I'm just doing what's best for you._

"Shit, babe, that sucks," Jack says emphatically, pulling Davey back to the present. "Don't blame ya gettin' freaked 'bout that. You gonna have to redo the whole paper?"

"Most of it," Davey says miserably. "I might be able to reuse a little bit, and I mean, I've done enough research on the stuff to have a general idea, but I'll definitely end up redoing at least half."

The felisian cringes. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Davey agrees. Pulling back from Jack's chest a bit, he scrubs his wrist across his cheeks to catch the few tears that have threatened to escape. Davey's mortified to feel the faint grit of dried tears on his skin, signs that he'd obviously been crying pretty hard before this. "God, I'm a mess," he says with a humorless laugh. "Sorry, it's been a long time since I got like that, I'm usually better at dealing with them. I didn't mean to just show up." Doesn't even remember coming here, honestly, although he doesn't say that part.

"Hey, no," Jack says, drawing back to meet Davey's gaze. He cups Davey's cheek in a palm, his topaz eyes fierce and intent. "Toldja, don't be sorry. Folks get freaked, it happens."

"Probably not quite like _that_ ," Davey counters, dropping his gaze, then admits, "I just hate getting weak like that."

"That ain't weak," Jack argues stubbornly. "There's not-" The felisian's face scrunches up as he searches for the right words, ears folded back. "There's a diff'rence 'tween _being_ weak and havin' a weak _moment_ , ya know? And everyone gets those."

The sentiment echoes as familiar, something Davey's sure he's been told before, but it still doesn't ease the tremors in his body. It doesn't stop that voice in his head reminding him that this is just another thing he's terrible at handling on his own, and that makes him weak; reliant; codependent.

Just one more thing where losing the person that helps will leave him adrift and alone with problems he can't manage by himself and what the fuck's he supposed to do then?

"I'mma getcha some water, 'kay?" Jack says, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone tenderly. "It'll help, promise." Davey nods, reluctantly uncurling his fingers from Jack's shirt, and the felisian kisses his forehead before he climbs off the bed.

When Jack pads out of the room, Davey grudgingly sits up and uses his left hand to comb down his hair because he can feel it standing up in every direction. His head is swimming slightly, a dull pounding behind his eyes. He leans his weight back against the wall, drawing his knees up to his body and wrapping his arms around them. When his gaze lands on the scratch marks on his cast, he grimaces, and he twists his other arm to check the damage. Well, at least he didn't break skin this time.

Jack comes back with a large glass, looking distinctly tousled. His hair is standing up around one ear, his work shirt wrinkled, and jeans hanging low on his waist so he's stepping on the cuffs - one of the catches above his tail must've come unhooked, Davey thinks. Still, the felisian gives Davey a warm smile as he comes over to kneel on the mattress and holds the glass out. Davey takes it with a whispered thanks, sipping the cool water.

Jack opens the top drawer of his nightstand and lifts out a small orange prescription bottle. "It'll help with the headache," Jack explains when Davey raises an eyebrow. "S'what I take when I get those migraines. Just, uh, don't tell Spot. Ya know how doctors are 'bout all that, but Race steals one sometimes too."

Davey is tempted to refuse the offer, not just because it's technically illegal but also because he doesn't want to admit he's affected enough to need one. In the end, though, his head is pulsing so hard it's making him nauseous, and that'd be even more embarrassing. So Davey downs the pill and the rest of the water gratefully.

"What can I do ta' help?" Jack asks, and then something seems to flicker in his expression. "I mean unless ya don't want me helpin'. I'm not tryna take over or nothin', just - if ya need somethin'."

Confused, Davey glances at his boyfriend's face. Where did that come from? Unless - Davey combs through his fragmented memory of the morning but he can't remember most of what was actually said, large chunks of it lost beneath the white-out of panic. That said, he can imagine the kind of things he might've said with that dark voice creeping out through his shattered barriers. "Did I yell at you or something?" Davey asks nervously.

"Ya don't remember much, do ya?" Jack asks knowingly. Davey shakes his head, wincing when the motion prods against his headache. "S'okay, it wasn't much. Just said somethin' about not needing your boyfriend to step in and fix everythin' for ya. And I - that's not what I'm tryna do, so ya know."

Shame and regret churn in Davey's stomach, making him even sicker than the pain in his head. Some of it must show on his face because Jack scoots closer, resting a hand on Davey's elbow, and he lays his tail over Davey's toes. "I'm sorry," Davey says. "I didn't mean it. You know how my mouth gets going off even when I'm paying attention."

Jack smirks indulgently at the attempt at a joke, but his eyes aren't convinced. "You don't gotta talk 'bout it if you don't wanna," he says resolutely. "I dunno who it was that treated ya like that, but you don't gotta tell me. Just - whoever it was, he's wrong. Ya know that, right? You ain't weak, and there's nothin' 'bout you that I'd pity 'cause youse one the best, strongest folks I ever met. I known that since I metcha. S'one the reasons I love ya."

Tears prick at the corner of Davey's eyes, already dried and stinging from earlier, and he hastily looks down to his lap so Jack doesn't see. He knows he needs to tell Jack about it at some point. It's not what started the wedge between him and Bill, but it definitely didn't help, and Davey can feel places where it's crept in here too. He's seen the hurt and frustration in Jack's eyes whenever Davey reacts badly to innocent offers of help or gestures of kindness. He owes Jack that truth, and he's willing to bare that horrible memory in exchange for keeping this man in his life.

But right now, when he feels so painfully raw like an exposed nerve, "I - I can't. Not-"

"Shh, s'okay," Jack says instantly, rubbing Davey's arm reassuringly. "I toldja, you don't gotta say. Whenever youse ready, s'fine. I just wantcha to know I'm here if ya ever wanna talk 'bout it. And if ya don't, that's cool too. I get what it's like havin' stuff you ain't ready to bring up, ya know that." His tail twitches and wraps loosely around Davey's ankle. "Right now, just lemme know if there's anythin' I can do to help ya feel better."

Davey's lips quiver and he finally dares to glance up at Jack, who is merely sitting there, quiet and expectant, ears pivoted forward to show he's giving Davey all of his attention. Not pushing, just waiting, letting Davey have control when he feels so desperately off-kilter.

There's a lump of emotion lodged in Davey's chest, and he can't find the words, but Jack somehow knows because when Davey tugs lightly at his fingers, Jack instantly slides around to Davey's side and all but pulls Davey into his lap. Shivering, Davey retreats into the security of Jack's presence, body supporting his weight and arms cradling him like he's something precious.

Another day, Davey will tell Jack all about the boy who saw a broken and fragile younger boy and toyed with his feelings. Who twisted and pulled and warped his already shaken world until the younger boy couldn't tell up from down anymore. Who made a boy so reliant on him, so thoroughly addicted to his approval, and then shattered him into a million pieces with a smile on his face.

But that's for another day. Just like the ruined midterm paper and the overwhelming pressure of deadlines and the crushing weight of what feels like his entire future balanced on a knife's edge. He can't handle any of that right now, barely has the strength to keep himself from falling apart.

Davey hates being weak. He hates relying on other people for things, no matter how willing they are to offer, and he hates needing anything. Needing any _one_ because there's always that chance they might leave and throw his life so wildly off balance again. But right now, he knows that _this_ is what he needs. When he was panicked and lost in the assault of his own mind, Davey's feet carried him to Jack's door without any conscious decision, seeking the safety he knows he can find here.

There are times like this where he needs Jack Kelly like he needs air, and somehow, that scares him less than it used to.

The felisian hums, the sound edged in a soft purr, and noses at Davey's hair. "I love ya, Davey Jacobs, and that ain't gonna change," he whispers intently. "Ya know I'd do anythin' for ya. All ya gotta do is ask."

"Can we just - can you stay for a while?" Davey asks tremulously. "I can't - I don't wanna be alone."

"I ain't goin' nowhere," Jack vows, and there's an added weight to the words that tells Davey he means more than just for today. Davey extracts himself from Jack's grip enough to thread a hand into the felisian's hair and kisses him. Jack groans into his mouth when Davey deepens the kiss, chasing after the comfort only Jack gives him.

They're both breathless by the time they part, laid on the bed and tangled like a knot. Jack bumps his nose to Davey's cheek and then presses a lingering kiss there on top of the rigid scar that spans down Davey's face. "Should go back ta' sleep, Dave," Jack murmurs into his skin. "Youse had a rough day. Get some sleep. We'll deal with all the rest tomorra', 'kay?"

"You don't have to leave?" Davey asks hopefully.

"Got nothin' else to do today," Jack agrees. "Even if I did, youse more 'portant. I'm all yours."

Davey takes a shaky breath and kisses Jack gratefully. It's one of those moments when Jack can read Davey like a book because he doesn't need Davey to ask before he shifts over to lay behind Davey, draping himself along Davey's spine. They don't sleep like this often, but when Davey's anxious, he likes the protection of having his back defended. Jack tucks his arm around Davey's torso and nuzzles the back of his neck. "I gotcha, Davey," he says. "Youse safe, just go to sleep."

As Davey lets out a long breath, a near-silent hum picks up against his back, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the sound. It's something Davey's never wanted to admit because he knows how Jack feels about it, but there's something so innately comforting about the sensation of his boyfriend's purr. He's memorized the sound, the exact pitch and hum of it, and it's recognizable as a voice to him now. This sound is Jack, can _only_ be Jack, and that grounds Davey in reality better than anything.

Davey shifts his arm, glancing down, and a moment later, Jack's tail is hanging over his waist where he can reach. Davey smiles and brushes his fingers through the fur, reassured by the familiar feeling. He will be strong tomorrow, will face all of the problems he's ignoring for the moment.

Closing his eyes, Davey relaxes his weight back into the felisian's chest and trusts that Jack will take care of him for tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Davey gets up the nerve to tell Jack why he's so scared of relying on people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: descriptions of a past emotionally abusive relationship and minor PTSD.

Sprawled out on Jack's bed, Davey watches his boyfriend intently studying the canvas propped on his easel. He loves seeing Jack like this, is always fascinated by the blinding intensity in those dazzling topaz eyes as Jack translates the contents of his boundless imagination into layers of paint.

Jack gets into these moods sometimes - Spot calls them 'frenzies,' to Jack's annoyance, but the term is sort of fitting - where the rest of the world dissolves into the background in place of his art. The way Jack explains it, the idea will stick in his brain and gnaw at him, taking over his thoughts until he gives in and lets the idea consume him. So he'll paint and paint and paint like nothing else exists until that feeling goes away and he can concentrate again. The results of these frenzies are almost always breathtakingly exquisite, and that more than makes up for the fact Davey sometimes doesn't see Jack for a day or two when it happens. 

It's been a while since Jack's last frenzy, the art forced to take a backburner to studying. Things have settled down again a little now that midterms are passed, though. There's still the impending terror of end of term exams on the horizon, and the pressure to do well enough to get officially admitted to his major program is always nipping at Davey's heels. Spring break helped, though, having that week alone with Jack to just unwind and recover from the stress. 

Davey still winces every time he thinks about his complete mental breakdown during midterms. In the end, everything worked out fine. It wasn't the greatest paper he'd ever written, but Davey still managed to salvage his history midterm project and scrape a decent grade on it. Davey feels stupid, looking back on it now, letting himself get so incredibly worked up over something so small. 

Of course, it wasn't exactly the midterm paper that threw him into a full-blown anxiety attack for the first time in several years. He probably would've been able to talk himself back down from a panic the way he usually does if it hadn't been for the kind, innocent librarian who accidentally managed to hit his trigger when he was most susceptible. One simple word blasted through his defenses, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up hours later with a migraine and huge gaps in his memory. 

Shaking his head, Davey touches the skin on the inside of his forearm searchingly. It took a couple of days for the scratch marks to fade, the sensitive skin clawed to a bright red in a bad habit he's never been able to break. Now, two weeks later, the damage is healed, the ruptured vessels faded back to white skin. Explaining to his doctor why there were gouge marks around the edge of his plaster cast at his last appointment had been a bit awkward. On the plus side, Davey's finally been able to trade the heavy plaster for a stabilizing arm brace, so it was worth the embarrassing conversation in the end. 

There is still one more embarrassing conversation on the agenda, but at least Davey feels more equipped to handle it after the chance to get his head on straight. 

For now, though, he has nowhere to be for the rest of the day, and Jack's face is beautiful as he carefully details his canvas. Davey lays on his side and watches the felisian work, intrigued by the emotions that flit, wild and unrestricted, across his face as he bares his soul. Jack's movements are captivating and graceful as a dance; the slant of his ears shifting as he changes focus, the gestures of his hands so perfectly controlled, and his tail sweeping up and down to balance him when he leans toward the easel. It's oddly hypnotic, and Davey thinks he could easily watch this for hours and never get bored. 

"Davey?" He doesn't realize he's been dozing until Jack's voice stirs him back to reality, and Davey pushes up on an elbow, rubbing his eyes. The felisian's paint supplies have been discarded onto his table, his clip-in earbuds hanging loose around his neck, and Jack cocks his head in surprise as he wipes his hands on a rag. "When'd you get here?" 

Checking his watch, Davey smirks. "About an hour ago."

Jack chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. (He missed a spot on his hand because the action leaves a smudge of yellow at his hairline.) "Ya should'a said something," he says. 

"The last time I interrupted you when you were painting, you stabbed me in the face with a paintbrush," Davey reminds him with a grin. Jack's ears lower to the sides, his expression bashful. "Besides, I like watching you paint," Davey says, shrugging. "It's sorta relaxing." 

"That so, huh?" asks Jack, some of the uncertainty easing from his face. He tugs off his paint-stained shirt and removes the headphones that had been threaded beneath the fabric. Snagging another tee from the wardrobe, he pulls it over his head as he crosses to join Davey on the bed. "You sure you don't just like starin' at my ass when I ain't looking?" Jack asks with a devious grin. 

"I stare at your ass even when you _are_ looking," Davey reminds him with a raised eyebrow. 

The felisian chuckles, conceding the point. "Still feel bad. Didn't mean to ignore ya." He leans down, capturing Davey's mouth in a slow, tender kiss. "Make it up to ya, I promise," Jack murmurs against Davey's lips, and the drop of pitch ignites something warm in his stomach. 

"Maybe in a bit," says Davey, tugging at Jack's shirt. "Right now I wanna be lazy." Jack comes without complaint, curling himself into Davey's side. "How do you always get paint on your tail?" Davey asks in amusement when the length of fur wraps across his waist and he sees the patch of blue among the dappled brown and black. 

Jack lifts his tail into his line of sight, then lets it drop back onto Davey's stomach with a huff. "Stupid thing got a life of its own," he says. "Just does whatever the hell it wants when I ain't paying attention." 

Davey laughs, brushing his thumb over the paint spot, but it's already dried on his fur. "What were you painting this time?" he asks curiously, casting a glance over toward the canvas even though he can't see it from this angle. 

"Not completely sure," says Jack. "Was just playing with an idea, messing around with colors. Just sorta a psychedelic landscape at the minute. May end up bein' garbage, but ya never know." Davey chuckles appreciatively. "Mm, love when ya come over to cuddle," the felisian says, nuzzling into Davey's ribs with a soft stutter of purr.

Licking his lips, Davey forces himself to say, "Well, not entirely just to cuddle." Jack props his chin on Davey's chest, raising an eyebrow in question. "There's something I wanted to talk to you about. Nothing like that," he adds hastily at Jack's brief flash of panic. "It's not a 'we need to talk' kinda thing. It's just something personal I probably should've told you about a long time ago. I'm just - building up to it. It's not easy." 

The felisian's ears pivot back faintly, and he bites his lip. "This got somethin' to do with midterms?" he guesses. Davey winces, and that's apparently answer enough. "I toldja, babe, you don't gotta talk about it if you don't wanna." 

"No, I know," Davey says. "I want to. Or maybe not want to, but I'm _ready_ to. Just trying to get up the nerve. It's sorta embarrassing." 

Jack pushes up on his elbows so he can lean in and kiss Davey gently. "Whatever it is, you know I ain't gonna think diff'rent," he says sincerely. "I love you, and that's not changin'." Davey smiles, his chest warming, and he tugs Jack down into another kiss. When they finally part, Jack bumps his nose affectionately against Davey's. "Liquid courage help?" he offers. "I still got the stuff Spot gimme."

Davey considers and then shrugs. "Couldn't hurt." 

Chuckling, Jack stands and walks out to the main room of the apartment. Davey sits up, making himself comfortable against the wall, braced arm in his lap with his legs stretched out in front of him. Jack returns a minute later with two glasses and the bottle of whiskey Spot gave him for his twenty-first birthday. Pouring the drinks, Jack climbs up to sit at Davey's side and hands over a glass. 

"This stuff is so smooth," Davey says after a sip. "Spot has good taste." 

Jack laughs. "When things taste so strong to ya, you get a bit picky about things like that," he says with a nod. "Makes grocery shoppin' a pain in the ass, but it's worth it." Davey hums in understanding. "How's the arm?" Jack asks in an obvious change of subject, giving Davey time to steel himself. Davey's heart skips a beat at the consideration. 

"Better," Davey says, flexing his fingers. "And I love that I can take this thing off when I need to. Makes showering so much easier." Jack snorts into his drink. "Doctor says about another month and I'll probably be good to go." 

"The scar's healin' up good too," Jack says, tipping his head to squint at Davey's cheek. 

"Spot's a genius," Davey says appreciatively. As promised, as soon as Davey'd gotten the last of his stitches removed, Spot had given him tips on how to minimize the scar. "That stuff he gave me is great. I really can't pull off the rugged, pirate look. It'll probably never go away completely, but I'll take this over the horror movie scar I had at first." 

"Eh, give it time," says Jack. "Long enough, pretty much any scar will fade a ton." Davey's stomach clenches at the knowledge that Jack is speaking from experience - by this point, Davey's all too familiar with the collection of scars that pepper his boyfriend's body - and he leans his weight into Jack's shoulder. Jack must guess why he's doing it because he dips in to kiss Davey's cheek, wrapping his tail over his lap so the end settles on Davey's leg. "And I still think you're the sexiest guy I ever seen, scars or not," the felisian adds with a smile and a kiss. 

Davey grins. "Well that's all the matters then," he says affectionately. Davey takes another fortifying swallow of whiskey and then a deep breath. "I know you're going to tell me to shut up for saying this," he starts with a wry smile, "but I'm going to say it anyway. I'm sorry." He raises his voice when Jack tries to interrupt, talking over him. "This is something I should've told you before because I've seen how much it hurts you. I know I'm not good at accepting help, even when it's just little things, but I've been worse about it with you, and _that's_ what I'm sorry about." 

The felisian is quiet a moment, absorbing the words, and then he nods. "'Cause you don't accept charity?" he says with the faintest hint of amusement. 

Davey laughs. "Well, that too," he admits. "Although that part I learned from my mom. For years, all we ever got from people was pity. Poor Esther and her sad little fatherless babies, you know? Mom was only twenty-two when we were born, and when my birth father died, she was barely an adult, still in nursing school, and suddenly alone with these twin babies. So all the people in the neighborhood and from temple, they all tried to act supportive and sympathetic, but mostly it was just pity. It drove Mom nuts. Sarah and I grew up hearing her be annoyed by charity and pity, and it sorta stuck." 

"I can get that," Jack says thoughtfully. "Got a lotta that in the system. Pisses ya off, people always acting like they're sad for you when most times they're just thinkin' 'glad that ain't me.'"

"Exactly," Davey agrees. He finishes his drink in one long swallow, savoring the burn as it goes down, and leans over to deposit the glass on the bedside table. "So I guess I've kind of always been that way. But then I got older, and shit happened, and it's so much harder with relationships and guys I like." Jack rubs a hand reassuringly over Davey's knee, and Davey doesn't hesitate to reach down and take it, grasping his fingers for support. "His name was Morris." 

Jack scoffs lightly. "That ain't a first name," he jokes. "What idiot gives their kid a last name as a first name?" Then he winces and gives Davey an apologetic look. "Sorry, I know this's serious. I'll keep the comments ta' myself." 

Laughing, Davey feels some of the tension uncoil in his shoulders. "No, it's fine. And it's kind of a weird name." He takes a deep breath. "I was fifteen when we met, and he was a senior. It was just after that thing with my first boyfriend's parents, I think I told you about that?" Jack nods, confirming that he remembers the story about the parents who had screamed at Davey for turning their son gay and chased him off like he was a demon to be banished. 

"Well, I was in a pretty bad place after that, mentally. It messed me up, completely tanked my self-esteem. And then suddenly there's this guy, and he's everything I'm not. He's older and cool and confident and a little dangerous, sorta rebel without a cause, you know? And for some reason, he liked _me_." _Oh, sweetheart, you're too damn special. I'm not letting anyone else steal you away. You're mine._

Davey exhales and distracts himself by circling Jack's knuckles with his thumb. "We weren't dating or anything, but I had the worst crush. I was on JV soccer and he was on Varsity, so we saw each other after school pretty much every day. We spent a lot of time together, all the time I could. I even lied to my parents a couple times, pretending I was at a friend's house when really I was out with him. I didn't want them to know, didn't think they'd approve because he was so much older, but I was convinced I was in love." He chuckles, and the sound is wetter than he expected. Davey swallows several times before he can continue. 

"Things were great at first," he explains, speaking to his knees. "He was charming and funny and affectionate. And the few times he'd get mad, he always followed it up with some great apology, over-the-top style. Flowers and gifts and endless sorrys. So I let it slide because it felt so nice to feel like I was that important to someone. After things with Darcy, I just wanted to feel _wanted_. Like I wasn't something bad or wrong. Like I was something worth having and keeping." 

Jack makes a soft, distressed noise and slips his arm around Davey's shoulders. Davey gives a small, appreciative smile without looking up from where the white end of Jack's tail is tapping on his thigh. "Then after a while, things started changing," he goes on because now that he's started, he can't stop. He can't keep this ghost trapped inside anymore, needs someone else to know so he can breathe again. 

"He started getting mad at me more often and over tiny things. And he got controlling. It was little things at first. 'You shouldn't hang out with that person, they're not very nice to you.' Or 'why do you do your hair like that? You know I like it better the other way.'" _C'mon, sweetheart, you know I'm just doing what's best for you._ "And it scared me sometimes, but that feeling when I did something he liked, the way he suddenly treated me like I was the best thing on the planet - I dunno, I know it's stupid, but I was addicted to it. I needed him to be happy with me. I was so fucking desperate to feel wanted that I just did whatever he asked because that validation was the only thing I could think about.

"And he loved it. He loved that I was so willing to do what he wanted, loved that I was so easy to manipulate. I went to him for everything. I'd made him my whole damn world, and he loved that I relied on him for every little decision." _Do you even know who you are without me anymore, David? C'mon, sweetheart, you_ need _me._ "I was wrapped up so tight I didn't know how I could ever live without him. And then he dumped me." 

"Wait, what?" asks Jack, startled. 

"In front of half the fucking school," Davey says, and he can't stop the tears that fill his eyes at this memory, the rage and heartbreak and humiliation. "Said no one would ever want a needy, clingy twink, a helpless pushover who can't think for himself, can't do anything without getting someone's permission. And everybody was watching, all these people watching him tear me apart in the middle of the cafeteria, and he laughed. He fucking _laughed_."

He clears his throat when his voice cracks, scrubbing the back of his wrist over his eyes. "And then I was just alone. He'd driven away so many of my friends, and everyone - it was the stupid pity thing again. People looked at me, and all they saw was pathetic freshman Davey who fell apart in front of everyone over a stupid crush that was so far outta his league." 

"Jesus, babe," Jack says, and he curls himself closer to Davey. With a hiccup that's dangerously close to a sob, Davey lets the felisian pull him against his chest, allows Jack to support him while he collects himself. _So much for never letting yourself need someone again, huh, sweetheart?_ Davey squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead into Jack's shoulder, shoving that voice back into the dark corner where it belongs. "That's fuckin' awful, Davey," Jack murmurs. "I'm so sorry. No one should hafta go through shit like that." 

"I didn't know what to do with myself," says Davey, voice painfully thick. "I barely even knew who I was anymore 'cause I'd let him mess with my head so much, and I-" He breaks off with a shiver, snaking a hand up to wipe at the tears that escaped. "I swore I'd _never_ let that happen to me again. I'm not that person anymore. If I can do it for myself, then no one else needs to do it for me. I need to be able to do everything on my own because I can't ever be that helpless if someone leaves me again." 

When Davey's next breath cracks into a sob, Jack folds himself around Davey. "Shh, youse okay," the felisian whispers, rubbing small circles over Davey's back. Davey clutches Jack's shirt and tries to breathe, struggling to get his lungs to cooperate. 

Apart from a few sessions with the therapist his parents made him see, Davey hasn't talked about this to anybody since Sarah found him after it happened. He thought it would be easier with all the years in between, but it still hurts, still makes him burn with shame and anger, still makes him want to curl up and hide. Unearthing that wound makes him feel like that heartbroken kid again, watching the man he loved rip his heart from his chest with a smile on his face. 

Nuzzling his cheek against the back of Davey's head, Jack purrs softly, and the sensation makes Davey cry all over again because here's this wonderful man doing something that he's not entirely comfortable with just to make Davey feel better. It's such a stark contrast, his mind full of memories of manipulation and short tempers while he's wrapped in the arms of a man who supports him despite everything and constantly treats Davey like he's special. Davey slips his arms around Jack, hugging him tightly and feeling the vibration roll through his ribs too as he buries his face in Jack's collar. 

Jack doesn't push, doesn't try to calm him down, just holds him and lets him cry until Davey runs out of tears. Davey sits up and dries his cheeks, giving a choked, self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I'm good now," he says. 

"Hey, I toldja," Jack says, cradling Davey's cheek in a palm and meeting his eyes. The amber is bright and insistent, even as his smile is sad and knowing. "That ain't somethin' you ever gotta be sorry for, Dave." He sweeps his thumb tenderly along Davey's cheekbone. "No one deserves goin' through shit like that, but it don't make you weak. Only one's weak is that bastard that thinks it's fun to take advantage of someone like he did. Youse better than that, and youse better than him." 

Davey shakes, ducking his gaze. "It doesn't feel that way sometimes." 

The felisian kisses his forehead gently. "Then I'll just hafta keep remindin' you 'til it sticks." Davey laughs, a broken little noise, at the stubborn determination. After a minute, Jack exhales slowly. "But take it from someone who was doin' it all alone a while; having people to help out doesn't make you a weaker person." 

"I know," says Davey, and the sadness in Jack's words makes his chest feel too tight. "I know it's stupid, but every time, I just keep remembering how it felt to not know what to do anymore, and I can't - I just don't-" 

"Shh, s'okay," Jack says reassuringly. "I gotcha. And it ain't stupid; normal to get messed up by shit like that." Davey isn't sure if it's even a conscious motion when Jack's tail curls up in Davey's lap where it's shielded by their bodies. "Just - you know that ain't _why_ I do things for ya, right? I'm not tryna boss ya 'round or nothin'." 

"No, I know," Davey says immediately because he _does_ know that. It made him suspicious at first, this guy who was so eager to help and willing to do anything to make Davey happy, but Davey learned somewhere along the way that it's just part of who Jack is. His innocent gestures are just that; no expectations or ulterior motives, only the kindness of a person who likes to take care of people. 

And it's not that Davey doesn't appreciate Jack's thoughtfulness when his brain doesn't fight him about it. It's always little things - bringing him dinner or snacks when Davey doesn't get the chance to eat between classes and work, or convincing Davey to go for a walk or take a nap when he can tell he's getting stressed. Sometimes that cup of coffee in the middle of a long study session is an absolute lifesaver. "I know that, I do," Davey says. "I just - it's not always easy to remember that in the moment, I guess." 

"A bad habit you ain't quite broke?" Jack offers with a wry smile, harkening back to their fight about the felisian's own ingrained habit of pushing people away due to self-hate issues. 

Davey chuckles wetly and nods. "Yeah, guess that's a good way to put it," he agrees. "I just - that's why I wanted you to know. Because I've seen it and I know I've hurt your feelings before when you just want to do something nice. And I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner." 

Jack quiets him with another soft kiss. "S'okay, babe, ain't like we don't all got issues, right?" he says. "But thanks, for tellin' me. I - it helps." He cradles Davey's hand in his palm, tracing along the lines of his bones and knuckles with the other hand. "So what'd I do 'fore midterms?" he asks curiously. "Did I say somethin' or-"

"It wasn't you," Davey says hastily before Jack can worry himself about it. "You didn't do anything, I promise. Honestly, you were great. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me like you did." Davey doesn't feel the need to add that the last time he'd been lost in an anxiety attack that long, he'd ended up in the hospital. "No, it really was mostly just the paper," Davey says, fighting back a blush. "That and - it's stupid, but this librarian came to check on me, and-" He breaks off, feeling the heat crawl up his face.

"Hey, s'okay," Jack says, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You don't gotta say." 

Davey shakes his head. "It's nothing like that," he says. "Just embarrassing. The librarian, she called me 'sweetheart.'" Even now, all these years later, the word tastes bitter and acidic on his tongue, and he has to swallow. "That's what Morris always called me. It's, uh, I just don't like the sound of it anymore. And I guess being stressed, it was just sort of - too much." 

Face creased with sympathy, Jack pulls Davey into his chest again. "M'kay, noted, that name's off limits," he says. "Never liked it much anyway, that's the sorta thing ya say to li'l babies." 

Davey laughs into the side of Jack's neck. "Yeah, kinda is," he agrees. 

"So what can I do to help?" Jack asks. Davey makes a confused noise. "Well, I mean, I ain't gonna be able to stop doin' things for ya all the way, 'cause I'm gonna forget. And I don't wanna, either, 'cause ya deserve that sorta stuff. But is there something I can do to make it better? Like, things to avoid or somethin'?"

"I don't - I mean, I don't even know," Davey admits because it's not something he's ever given any thought. He's been so deeply set in the idea of opposing any and all help that he's never considered what things he could do to help ease himself out of that habit. Never had a reason to before Jack came into his life and showed him that it's not always a bad thing to let someone else help carry the burden. 

Jack hums, the sound edged in another purr as he nudges his nose against Davey's cheek. "M'kay, so how 'bout compromise? That's how grown-ups fix things, right?" Davey laughs appreciatively at the joke. "How 'bout maybe I check with you before doin' things for ya? Like, instead of just bringin' you a coffee, I'll text ya and ask if ya want some first? That way you got a say, right, so it's not just me makin' decisions? Would that help?" 

"That-" Davey trails off, turning the idea over in his head, and he can't deny that it makes sense. Having some say in the process, that little bit of control to accept or refuse, might be enough to help keep his anxieties at bay. To not feel like he's reliant on someone looking out for him. And maybe, with time, it'll be enough to help him stop hearing that taunting voice all the time. "That'd be nice, actually," he says, smiling gratefully. "But isn't compromise supposed to go both ways?"

"So, maybe don't yell at me if I forget?" Jack suggests with a playful grin. Embarrassed, Davey snorts, shoving the felisian's shoulder. "Hey, c'mon, I'm tryin' here. Seriously, Dave, youse helped me so much a'ready, way you make me study and make sure I'm sleepin' when I been paintin' and takin' care of me when I get those headaches. I just wanna do something to return the favor," Jack goes on, more seriously. "That's what couples do, right? We work on stuff together. So that's what we'll do. Work on this together 'til you believe me when I say youse the best, most amazing person I've ever met, and I'm damned lucky to have ya." 

Eyes watering for a whole other reason now, Davey drags Jack into another kiss. It's soft and slow and tender, the sort of kiss for people who aren't in any hurry because they know they've got a whole future worth of time ahead. They're both breathless by the time they stop, stretched out across the bed in a tangled sprawl. 

"I love you," Davey says, carding a hand into Jack's hair. He'll never understand how he got this lucky, to find this man who doesn't want to fight his battles for him but wants to stand at his side while Davey fights his demons. 

"Love you too, Dave," the felisian replies with a warm smile. 

Davey sighs, willing the tension out of his muscles as he relaxes into Jack's bed. "Okay, now I really do want to just cuddle." 

Laughing, Jack sneaks one more kiss and then wraps himself along Davey's side in that place made just for him. "Happy to 'blige."

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Everyone's anxiety manifests differently and should be dealt with differently. If you know someone with anxiety, please discuss the correct way to handle an attack, and if you have anxiety attacks, please make sure the people close to you know what they should and should not do to help. Never assume you know what's best for a person because there's a chance your attempt to help may make it worse.


End file.
